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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29087229">To You: The tale of an underground thief</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baedeluxe/pseuds/Baedeluxe'>Baedeluxe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Anxiety, Attempted Murder, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Complicated Relationships, Death, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Eren is occasionally toxic, F/M, Falling In Love, Fear, Fear of Death, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, Idiots in Love, Jean is a sweetheart, Kissing, Loss, Loss of Identity, Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Trust, Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Minor Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Not Really Character Death, Older Eren Yeager, Original Character Death(s), Porn with Feelings, Possible Character Death, Relationship(s), Secrets, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Anime Spoilers, Snow, Snowball Fight, Teenage Eren Yeager, Titan Eren Yeager, Titan Shifters, Titans, cute moments, jean kirstein - Freeform, let’s just roll with it, some tags are missing cause they might spoil the whole thing, we’ll figure it out later</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:40:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29087229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baedeluxe/pseuds/Baedeluxe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I almost believe that everything I’ve done in my life was meant to lead me to this moment</p>
<p>...right between your arms</p>
<p>...and I’d do it all again if it means reliving my last moments with you.”</p>
<p> <br/>To bask in the sunlight was a never a dream of yours but as you, an underground thief, enlist in the corps in hopes to join the military police, you realize there is more to the world than the dark grim place that is the underground city.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Main ships: Eren/reader with a tiny bit of Jean Kirstein.</p>
<p>Uploaded on: 30/1/2021.<br/>Please do not copy or share on any other social media/ writing platform.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armin Arlert/Reader, Connie Springer/Reader, Eren Yeager/Reader, Friendships - Relationship, Jean Kirstein/Reader, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/You, Levi/Reader, Marco Bott/Reader, Mikasa Ackerman/Reader, Sasha Blouse/Reader, with - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Introduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I hate my brain and how it comes up with this crap but here is the thing, I can’t control myself thus why I’m sharing this story with you, and I can’t lie, I’m very much enjoying writing it. </p>
<p>I’m just here to make some clarifications so please take some time to read them:</p>
<p>-I try my best not to describe the reader’s physical characteristics, and while, in the aot universe, she’s supposed to be white, The reader’s race here shouldn’t matter at all because the whole point of fan fiction is for us to be able to picture ourselves in said fanfiction. I’m all about everyone having representation, because I personally can’t find enough representation for myself and that’s just frustrating, so I won’t be using sentences like ‘your cheeks turned red’, or ‘your petite form’...I’m thinking something like ‘your cheeks heat up’ sounds a lot better. That was just an example. Same goes for hair, eyes, height, weight etc.</p>
<p>-On the other hand, the reader’s personality is up for me to chose and no, I won’t be inserting myself in here. In fact, my characters and I have absolutely nothing in common. I try to make my characters as realistic as possible, because I’m the biggest fan of the realistic element in books, it makes everything fall together nicely, that’s my personal opinion at least. The reader here will act according to the situation and contexte. My character is an underground thief, she never saw a titan so don’t be surprised if she shits her pants at some point and not turn Mikasa mode on titans because that will make absolutely no sense if you ask me.</p>
<p>So please accept the character’s personality however it is and I hope you fall in love with the reader/ yourself as much as I’m in love with her right now. </p>
<p>-This story will be covering all the attack on titan seasons and don’t worry, I haven’t read the manga of season 4 so there are no spoilers here, and Please don’t spoil it for as well, keep the comment section spoiler free!!</p>
<p>-There are a few details that are different however, like the age of the characters. In this story, they enlist in the training corps at 14 and graduate 3 years later. That means, when the colossal titan attacks for the second time, everyone will be 17 or 18. This is really important because I don’t really feel like writing about 15 years old Eren or Jean, because as a 19 year old, it feels weird. Don’t get me wrong, they’re cute and all but perhaps too young xd and I might add mild smut ehehe shush let’s keep it a secret.</p>
<p>-I like to write long chapters, they can reach up to 7000 words, and I’m a sucker for heavy dialogues so expect a lot of it. This is obviously going to be a slow burn so don’t come at me if you think the story is moving slow or anything like that. </p>
<p>-Please do not copy my works or share them anywhere on social media. In fact, don’t copy anyone’s work, that’s just messed up :/</p>
<p>-I know I’m not the best writer out there but I’m not the worst either, so please if you don’t feel like reading my work, don’t read it, as simple as that.</p>
<p>-Most importantly, enjoy, this is a safe space, and you can express your dislike towards some characters if you want, or even the reader’s actions, just don’t go too far of course. Don’t forget to leave some feedback, it keeps me going and puts the biggest smile on my face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Someday...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>First chapter is a little recap of the reader’s life in the underground city.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Extra: reader is 14 in this chapter, and will be growing older with every chapter. That way, when the colossal titan attacks the second time, everyone will be 17/18 years old.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Getting bread for breakfast is quite the task.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And not because you live on the other side of the underground city, far from the only, more or so, decent bakery that presents the warmest bread and various goodies instead of the repulsive mix of flour, yeast and unsanitized water you find in Jules’ bakery, the one from around the corner.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And not because you have to wake up early and prepare yourself for a good hour and half of walking before bread runs out, or worse, you find nothing but cold leftovers that can barely satiate your hunger...it seems rather fit to also remind you that you’re buying food for two mouths.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s the stares of the perverted creeps that lurk in the shadows, abusing your body, a fourteen years old might I add, with their horrific pedophilic looks that make you shiver in both disgust and fear. Today, you’re thankful none of them tried to approach you, all they did is comment on your looks, despite you being covered from head to toe with a piece of clothing you dare not call a dress...once maybe, it was but now it served for nothing but to procure the tiniest bit of warmth in the cold harsh place that is the underground city. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It barely gets any sunlight, hell you don’t even know what that is. You imagine it to be a huge flame, shining brightly and dancing wildly like a bonfire, lighting up the supposedly ‘blue’ sky. You do not know what that is either, for you’ve spent all your life, so far, in this hellhole, as your father has described it on numerous occasions. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And as you enter your very modest house, you prepare yourself to greet him and possibly receive a lecture about how you’re wasting your potentiel instead of living your live to the fullest. It’s becoming quite the routine, and while you’ve made it clear you’re in no way going to leave him behind, the man has such a strong resolve and determination; he’s set on sending you away to the world above, or ‘upstairs’ as everyone here has grown to call it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Found any bread?” His eyes fall on you and you raise the small package with one hand before placing it on the table. You take a seat in front of him as your eyes study his tired face, and while it’s a bit dark, you can make out his features thanks to the few candles scattered around the room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s old and time has done him absolutely no justice, wrinkles decorated his face so much so it seems rough and hard for the touch, not that you’d ever to touch his cheeks or anything like that, the man makes it clear he’s not the biggest fan of physical affection. That in no way means he doesn’t care. He does, probably more than he should because it’s killing him to see his one and only daughter wasting her life away, catering for him; a drunkard father that can only find rejoice in the bitterness of alcohol, drinking his thoughts and problems aw</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And while he does end up forgetting about the world whenever the booze starts to manifest its effects, the thought of you growing old in the underground city always popsout of nowhere in his head, taking him completely off guard and it feels like someone has stabbed him. The stab feels too real sometimes and he ends up jolting from his place with a loud gasp, feelings of guilt and incapacity taking over him before he tries to sleep it off and act like nothing happened. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But it haunts him still, everyday, he’s reminded of that one grim idea when he sees you entering the house, coming back from a long day of ‘working’ or at least that’s what you try to convince him, but he's no fool, he knows exactly what you’re up to every time you leave the house, stealing whatever you can, wether it be food or money. At times, the need surpasses your morality, and when there is a need, there is a way...except that yours is very much illegal and defies everything your parents have taught you.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Never steal (FN)...no matter what...live an honorable life...even if it means you die of hunger’ you mother, may she rest In Peace, used to say.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At this point, you’re just trying to live a life...you could care less if it’s honorable, and in all honestly, the underground city is anything but that. These streets are filled with nothing but thieves and murderers, it’s a miracle you’re still alive...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eat,” you order your dad as you split the piece of bread you had stolen and place the bigger half right in front of him with a cup of water, to help swallow the very simplistic meal you have provided for the both of you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He absolutely detests it when you boss him around, acting like the man of the house when it’s supposed to be the other way around, and it only reminds of how of failure he is; he’s constantly failing at the simplest task that is being your father and it pains him, it hurts him so much he can’t stand his own reflection.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this Jules’?” He refers to the bread, his voice calm and collected despite his mind being a whirlwind of dark thoughts eating at the last bit of sanity he has left after the very ridiculously stupid death of your mother. <em>How stupid can it be?</em> You may ask.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not that you remember it or anything, you were too young when it happened anyway, she fell down some stairs and...broke her neck...the woman lived her entire life under rocks, hoping to go ‘upstairs’ only to die so idiotically because of some ‘stairs’. You won’t admit it but you occasionally find it funny because of how ironic it is.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You take a sip of your water, pretending it's a lovely warm cup of milk but it didn’t work much if you’re to be true to yourself. The water system works differently than how it does in the world above, mostly because you get the leftovers of everything, specially that you live under the highest class that exists within the walls, also known as the aristocrats of Wall Sina.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s purely sadistic how there is nothing but ground separating the two visibly different classes, it’s almost as if they find ecstasy in reminding you that no matter what, you’ll always be stomped on by their feet, ignoring your presence and living their best life as you rot and wither away like a plant with no source of light. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I asked you a question...(FN),” your father repeats his words once again, and while you try to ignore him, you can’t find it in your heart to do so.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah...I got it from Jules,” you finally respond and he sighs in what can only be disappointment. So his daughter is both a thief and a liar... “Why are you asking?” Your bite ferociously into the bread, like a wild animal feeding on its prey. Table Etiquette and manners aren’t really you biggest concern right now. Filling your stomach is, specially that you’ll have to spend the day running and grabbing whatever your hands can reach.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It tastes...better than usual,” he says carefully, maintaining eye contact with you, and you slowly nod your head, faking ignorance as to what he’s trying to imply, “Almost like the one from the other side of the underground.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You cough a bit and wipe your mouth with your sleeve, “Are you suggesting that I stole it?” You decide to go straight to the point, feeling that a part of you might regret it but going for it anyway, “Because I don’t have time to go all the way to the other side.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why did you wake up early then?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Another strike, this man doesn’t seem to know when to stop with his interrogations. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He notices the uneasiness in your eyes, and before you get to open your mouth and think of a somewhat believable lie.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You think I didn’t notice? That you were gone since dawn?” His tone sound challenging yet harmless, he’s definitely not one to make a huge deal out of things but you know where this is leading, he purposefully finds any reason to bring up the same subject and somehow it works just fine for him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know everything that goes in this house...in case you didn’t notice,” he looks around with a tiny bit of disgust, “it’s pretty small.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You roll your eyes at him and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, “What was that about?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing,” you answer quick.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No...I just saw that eye-roll...I’m just stating facts, this house is indeed small,” he explains himself and you gulp down the rest of your water before slamming your cup on the table and it catches his attention. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know dad...I know. I don’t you to remind me that we live in a very small house because we share a room...together and I find it a bit comfortable since I’m starting to grow into a young lady and I need my space...and you’re always there...watching my every movement so I know, I know you’re stating facts,” you raise yourself from your seat and head to the sink, your worn out boots making an unbearable squeaking noise against the cheap fungal wooden floor.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You place your cup and place on the small counter and turn to face him, once again as you lean against it, “but I’m not complaining and neither should you,” You approach the table with fast-ish strides, “Maybe you should be a little grateful because this house is the only thing we have,” You snatch the plate before his eyes and he raises his arms in protest.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I wasn’t done with that!” He whines like a child, causing you once again to roll your eyes for the second time this day. He’s really not making things for you.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you won’t get to finish it until you learn how to...I don’t know...show me a tiny bit of recognition for working so hard to get this bread.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You mean stealing it?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Same thing old man! Same thing!” You groan in frustration, as you turn to wash the plates because he’s clearly not going to do it, not when he’s still suffering from last night’s hangover, and the cumulative of the ones before.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t raise you to be a thief,” he tries to sound angry but his tone conveys anything but that. It sounded like a confession; he’s the reason you turned out to be this way. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You take a deep breath and hold it in your chest, staring absent-mindedly at your hands. You turn and lean against the sink, using both your hands for support, </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I didn’t chose to be one goddamn it!” You voice comes out desperate, as a cry for help and your dad’s expression softens considerably. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I didn’t want this to be my life, okay?” You ran your hands through your hair with difficulty, stressing out of nowhere, “But if stealing means I get to put food on the table, so be it...I do not care about your sense of morality if that’s what you want to hear.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It doesn’t have to be like this (FN),” Uh oh, here we go again, with the same, excuse the language, bullshit he seems to be so fond of of bringing up when seeing you in a weak state of mind.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake your head, feeling tired already as you can already see how this will end, a useless conversation that moves nowhere since he’s pretty stubborn and refuses to understand that you’re just as stubborn as he is, especially when it gets to this point. “Don’t...just don’t...please Dad...just...I don’t want to hear whatever your about to say.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh but you will listen to what I have to say.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No I won’t. I already know what you’re going to say.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes you will.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I said I won’t!”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I said you will...because things are not supposed to be what they are right now.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh! Really! How are they supposed to be then? Please do enlighten me,” you indirectly give in, and once the realization hits you, you curse internally, feeling quite frustrated with the weak resolve of yours. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You father turns in his seat, finding it very difficult to even stand up, at least not after gulping down an excessive amount of booze the night before, and not any booze, the cheap kind of type, the one he can afford. It tastes bad but it does the trick, specially when he closes his eyes and his problems, shrink, for a certain amount of time, in front of his eyes. “Believe me when I say you need to get out of this shithole,” he starts and you think to yourself what’s new, he never stops reminding you of it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘There is a bigger world out there (FN)’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Leave this shithole when you can (FN)’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Don’t stay in this shithole like I did (FN)’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shithole this, Shithole that...he seriously needs to come up with a new description, the term is quite outdated considering how much he’s using to describe the underground city. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh what the hell?” You whisper to yourself as you allow your feet to move closer and take your previous seat, right in front of him. While you enjoy conversing with your father, mainly because he’s the only person you can converse with without having to worry about him slitting your throat open or trying to rob you, you hate that you don’t much to talk about. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s not like there anything interesting to talk about to begin with. You once brought out the weather, in a sad attempt to converse with him, only to remember you don’t have a weather in the underground, it’s always been dark and slightly humid, nothing more nothing less.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I found a way to get you out of here.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mhm,” You hum in boredom.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well I heard...I actually heard not found...but...you get the point,” he leans in as if he’s about to share the greatest secret of all time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You wave your hand around, “Yeah yeah Sure...whatever you say.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Since the breach in Wall Maria, things have gotten severely bad for the corps...and they’ve lost more than anticipated...so they’re recruiting people from the underground,” He stops and take a deep breath, “I want you to join the corps.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your mouth opens in confusion and slight shock. You scoff, a chuckle leaving soon after, “You’re joking, right?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The old man shakes his head no, causing your eyes to widen and your heartbeat, for some unknown reason, grows incredibly fast by the second. “No...no...no...no no no,” the tone of you voice suddenly getting defensive and the furrowed eyebrows are a visible sign that you are not accepting this not so generous offer.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No...no, no I’m not going the corps! The corps?” You say the last part louder and your father squints, realizing he should have taken his time to explain the whole thing.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s the only way out of here (FN).”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You rise from your seat and pace back and forth, overthinking more than usual, specially for a kid your age. “I’m fourteen dad!” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s even better...you won’t spend the best years of your life here.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And I will get to do that? By joining the corps? Training like a machine? Throwing myself to death? Is that what you’re trying to say because you’re seriously...seriously fucked in the mind,” You raise a hand to your mouth, eyes widening but you father doesn’t seem to care much about the fact that you cursed in front of him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No you won’t throw yourself to death...all you have to do is work hard to get in the military police,” his eyes carefully study your pacing form, trying to decipher the sudden wave emotions that has taken over you face, causing you to look pale and about to vomit. “With that being said,” he speaks quietly, “You’ll get to live within the safety of Wall Sina...the longest and best life one can hope for.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stays quiet for a moment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Besides...I already signed you up for it.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You stop in your track, his words interrupting the train of thoughts you were so engulfed in. You wonder to yourself, Did I hear that right or am I imagining things?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And you realize the only way to get an answer for that is to scream: “You did what?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your father flinches when your voice pierces his eardrums, and he raises his hands defensively. “I had to...it’s the only way.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re a fool if you think I’m leaving you here by yourself,” you say with disbelief coating each word of yours, and he notices a hint of fear in the orbs that stare right back at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll have to.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I am not going to enlist for that crap...and I certainly won’t leave you alone in this ‘shithole’,” you quote his words, voice wavering in pure anger and despair. Ever since you remember, all he did is talk endlessly about how he’d send you to the world above to start a new life, a life he couldn’t grant you and you never thought the day will come when he actually does something, besides talking. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He really went all out this time. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know I’m the worst father anyone can possibly ask for and...you hate me so much you can’t stand my mere presence right now,” he says, as if he’s trying to convince that he is indeed the worst father in the whole universe, as if he’s trying to get you to hate him on purpose. That way, it’s easier for you to let go of him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But that’s the problem...I don’t hate you, I wish I did, maybe things could have been easier for me...” you approach him in fast strides and crouch to the floor, placing a hand on his knee. “I hate that I care so much for you and I hate the fact that you fail at everything you do, you can’t even get me to hate you...” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He looks down at your teary eyes, and he can’t seem to remember when was the last time you allowed yourself to cry so freely around him, or cried for that matter. You’d always held your head high, faking a whole persona, not allowing him to see you in a moment of weakness so as he doesn’t take you for granted. It’s the only way to prove to him that you are indeed capable of handling things and being the ‘man’ of the house. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m never leaving you old man...You can’t get rid of me....” You allow your tears to flow, a stupid smile decorating your face, and he hesitantly places a hand on your head, gently patting it. “You’re an even bigger fool for thinking you can survive without me...who’s going to cater for you if I’m gone?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But that’s exactly why I’m doing this,” his voice is a whisper, barely heard, but you hear it, and you wipe your tears with one hand, sniffling to get rid of the mucus that has clogged your nose, “What is that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It was never supposed to be like this (FN). It was supposed to be the other way around...me taking care of you...not the opposite.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You fall to your butt, opening your mouth a few times, trying to say something, anything really but you ant disagree with the words that leave his mouth at this very instance. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sending you off so you would never have to think of me again...I will no longer be a burden on your shoulders, you won’t have to think about feeding me or anything of such sort,” he smiles softly at you and you can only stare at him with a blank face, “You’ll be thinking of you and only you...because that’s how things are supposed to be.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And while you’re gone, I’ll sit here and count my days until I’m nothing but an vague memory in that little head of yours,” he chuckles, “You won’t have to worry about this ‘old man’ right here,” he chuckles as he quotes the words you’ve grown to address him with, and while he didn’t appreciate them at first, he strangely finds them endearing coming out from his daughters’ mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So...you’re condemning yourself to death? Is that it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t answer your question, mostly because it sounds more like a statement and he can’t argue with how true it is. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You old stupid man...How selfish can you get?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your voice is filled with pure rage, concealing the hurt within you. Your emotions are all over the place, so disorganized you don’t even know what to say or how to react and so you can only stay quiet for a long minute while your father can’t seem to understand the purpose of calling him selfish when he’s quite literally willing to give up his life for your sake. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And as he waits for you to speak, you stare at the floor, aware of his staring. You lick your lips and rise from the ground hastily, reaching for his collar. “I will not tolerate this bullshit of you giving up on your own life to save me...no, I will not believe this stupid act,” you say through gritted teeth, and he can only sit and listen to you, a child speaking to her father menacingly, with a forefinger pointed at him accusingly...yet he lets you be, for he hasn’t a single clue of the mayhem you’re going through at this instance.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop trying to be a good father because you’re only making it worse...I’m tired of you thinking that me letting go of you is the best thing that could happen to me,” your voices shakes a bit but you hold your tears back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You have no right...okay? You have no right to take my father from me...” your bottom lip quivers as you say exactly what’s on your mind, feeling the need to get it all out instead of keeping it in. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ve already lost my mother....” You throat feels like it’s tightening on its own and your vision gets blurry as you try not to blink away the tears, “I can’t lose you too.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And if you’re willing to die for me yet you’re not willing to turn things around...then you’re nothing but a really really selfish person.</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So don’t come at me and tell you’re doing this for me,” you finally blink, allowing hot tears to stream on both sides of your face, “Because you’re only doing it for yourself, you can’t handle the consequences of you being a terrible father,” you slightly shake him by the collar, his eyes looking sad and lifeless. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you can’t even try to sober up...I don’t know...just try for once and not give up on the first day,” your other hand reaches for the other side of the collar, and you tighten your grip around it, “Try waking up at dawn and placing food on this table instead of sending me away to the goddamn corps Dad...”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You let out a shaky breath and your knees give up on you, you fall to the ground, letting go of his collar and you lay your head on his lap, and he stares...it’s all he can do, he stares at your tired form, as you try in vain to suppress your cries. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I hate you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes widen in pure shock as those words leave your mouth when just a moment ago, you’ve made it clear that he was doing a bad job at trying to get you to hate him. It’s what he wants; you to detest everything about him that led you to live a continuous non-ending cycle in misery, but when he heard it come straight out of your mouth, it almost sounded like you actually meant it and it felt like someone was toying with his heart, tossing it around and stepping on it a million times. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Someday...</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">when you’re a mother...</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">you’ll understand,” he whispers, loud enough for you to hear, voice filled with indescribable regret and your cries get significantly loud</span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...and you don’t care at this point, nothing you could ever say or do will change his mind. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don’t hesitate to leave a comment to announce your presence and I hope you like this chapter</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Friends?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Don’t be mad at me but Eren won’t be making an appearance in the first three/four chapters, I think it’s better this way...once again, making this story as realistic as possible. Enjoyyy!!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So much for sunlight.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You groan loudly as your eyes scan the room you’re assigned and you can’t seem to remember when was the last time you didn’t have to share a room. There are no windows, not a single crack from which the sunlight can flow through.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At this point, you’re not sure if you’ve even left the underground to begin with. Sure, the trip has been excruciatingly long and your body feels like it has entered an entirely different environment, you feel warmer but a bit nauseated to say the least which is completely understandable considering the fact that you’ve spent your entire life hidden under a rock. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You still haven’t gotten to see the upper world since they had you blindfolded throughout the whole trip, standing from the underground city stairs leading to Ermich district to the Trost discret for some paperwork and finally a training base within Wall Rose, where you’re supposedly going to receive mental and physical education as a member of the 104th training Corps.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Why did they have to blindfold you? You were briefly told your eyes could possibly go blind, specially in your case, someone who doesn’t even know what sunlight is. Thus why they put you alone, in a dark room illuminated with a few candles here and there and train you till you get used to the new environment.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s been a week already and every time they’d take your blindfold off, your eyes hurt so bad you had to cover them with your hands, All you could see is white for a few seconds and then it turned black, which absolutely confused the shit out of you but it has significantly gotten better in the last couple of days.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You hear a knock on the door, announcing you they’re coming in, “Close your eyes,” you immediately do as you’re told and it swings open, allowing the early morning sun rays to flood in and you slightly flinch, despite your eyes being closed shut.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How are you doing on this fine morning?” The nurse in charge of you speaks as she approaches you, with a breakfast tray, not bothering to close the door behind her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You rely on your sense of smell and try to figure what today’s meal is, only to be disappointed when you find out it’s the same as every other day, stale bread, a very tiny piece of cheese that gets stuck between your teeth and a small cup of milk. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dear lord...I thought by coming here you guys would spoil me with meat but I guess things aren’t so different from the underground,” you do not hesitate to voice out your discontent and the lady’s laugh fills the room, as she shakes her head and pats your head lovingly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Come come...I don’t even remember when was the last time I had meat,” she puts emphasis on the last part, and with a dramatic sigh, she adds, “Good times they were. Good times,” her tone suggests she’s reminiscing about a long forgotten past when it’s only been two years since the breach in Wall Maria and its citizens could only find refuge within Wall Rose.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Despite you being locked away under Wall Sina, News would arrive one way or another so it wasn’t hard to keep up with the chaos that had occurred back then, and it was only a matter of time before the population of the underground grew larger due to the very unfortunate conditions, making poverty rates grow at an unbelievably fast pace, so much so the economical status went downhill and it wasn’t like there was much to begin with.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Maybe that’s why your father went all out and got you enlisted in the corps. Things in the underground city never move forward and you know it will only get worse from now on.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She gently placed a hand on your chin and you furrow your eyebrows, “Are you not going to close the door?” You ask with your eyes closed still, feeling a tiny bit of discomfort. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She shakes her head no then remembers you can’t see what she’s doing, “No,” she taps your chin with her thumb, “you need to get out of here as soon as possible, the training is starting next week,” she proceeds to feed you using her own hands, and while it feels weird, you dont remember the last time someone took care of you. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was always you taking care of your father. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So it feels nice to have the roles reversed for once, even if meant being fed by a lady you barely know.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You sit quiet for a moment, munching on your breakfast and swallowing, and when you’re done, the nurse proceeds to explain that today you’ll be spending your day in the field, that way you recover pretty soon.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“For now, don’t take off the blindfold,” she guides you through the small set of stairs, and you nod your head, incapable of keeping up with her and the only thought that crosses your mind, like a repeated loud echo is don’t fall (FN), don’t slip, you do not want to break your neck and die like your mother did.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I repeat do not take the blindfold no matter what, best to leave it for tomorrow’s experiment, your eyes are still sensitive to the light,” she grabs your hand and guides you to the field, a blanket tucked in the space between her armpit and her shoulder. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you feel?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hot...why is it hot?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The kind lady lets go of your hand, “We’ve already gone through this...the sun doesn’t burn if that’s what has you so worked up,” a grin takes over her soft features as she lays the white blanket on the grass, right below a tree with large branches to procure a large area of shade.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But that doesn’t mean you can spend all time outside...you might get a heat stroke and trust me...they’re a pain in the bottom.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the hell is a heat stroke?” You panic upon hearing words you can’t understand or never heard of for that matter, causing her to laugh loudly at your reaction.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She grabs your hand and helps you sit down, “Nothing for you to worry about.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You allow your hands to graze the grass by your sides, still incapable of fathoming how it grows or what it is. It felt soft and slightly cold against your fingers and while the first time you touched it, your body felt so grossed out, you’ve grown to realize that it only reacts that way to new things.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The nurse is long gone, she did promise to come back in a couple of hours and once again insisted on you keeping your blindfold on. Sure, you did try to convince the sweet lady that you do not need one and you can simply close your eyes shut, but she only responded with, and I quote, </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Curiosity is in human’s nature...even if it’s harmful for you, you’ll find yourself doing things more often than you should</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You kick off your shoes allowing your feet to dig into the grass and it tickles for a bit but you don’t stop, you try to take in as much as you can with your other senses, by smelling a distinct odor, a flowery one of some sort. You were completely unaware that something could smell this lovely, not when you grew up surrounded by the sewer system of the city above, and not when everyone around you reeked of disgusting bodily fluids and had no concept of personal hygiene...including yourself if you’re to be honest. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And yes, you did hear of a clean freak lurking the streets of the underground. News had it he had moved up to join the survey corps, thus why you never got the chance for him to meet you and gag at the sight of you, possibly deciding to dote on you with some soap to help ease his conscious or satisfy his need for everything and everyone around him to be clean. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">How unfortunate indeed!</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Your lay your back against the tree, allowing your ears to take in all the sounds surrounding you, from the loud melodious chirps of different breeds of birds, chanting happily as they dance from one tree to another, the occasional soft howl of the wind and the sound of people talking...people your age to be specific and you immediately assume them to be your new comrades in the training corps. They’re just settling in their new dorms, and while you’re a bit far from the whole scene, you can hear some laughs and it puts a smile on your face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You don’t remember things in your home to be this cheery. It was always neighbors cursing their hearts out at each other for making too much noise, or screams of someone who just got stabbed but no one comes to their aid, not even the ones who pass by them. People lived in isolation, for their own sake and no one really cared to make friendships or even greet someone for that matter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And somehow, the happy aura surrounding this place brings you some sort of calamity, allowing you to heave out a deep sigh you didn’t know you were trapping, and in that split second, concern and worry flees your body and you let yourself drift off to sleep</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...a nap wouldn’t harm anyone...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Or so you thought...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Because not long after, you unconsciously relive the last moments you shared your father as you begged and begged in vain for him not to kick you out of his house. You tried everything in the book, from fake fainting to attract his attention to promising you’d do everything he asks you to do and when he got fed up with the scene you were causing, the man did not hesitate to kick you square in the stomach causing you to stumble back and fall dramatically, once again in a sad attempt to awaken that fatherly instinct in him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Did it work? Yes, for a very very brief moment, his eyes softened at the sight of his daughter sprawled like a frog on the harsh ground. But when he made sure you were fine, well...actually, it didn’t take long to figure out you were pulling an act, he slammed the door, teary eyed and slung against it, placing a hand on his mouth, sobbing uncontrollably. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was the hardest thing he has ever done, and somewhat close to losing his wife, because in a way, he did lose you but he’s certain it’s for the best. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He wants you to have the life he promised but never tried to grant.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You rise with a loud gasp, hitting your head with something and you wince in pain. The thing in question groans and your mouth opens in slight shock.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ms Evangeline?” You immediately assume it’s your nurse. She did after all promise to come back in a couple of hours, but has it really been a couple of hours already? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It sure didn’t feel like it. You swear you just closed your eyes a minute ago.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No...” and this voice sure as hell doesn’t belong to the nurse, “It’s Marco,” it belongs to a man, an adolescent going through puberty is exactly the person crouching to your level, a hand placed on his nose as he tries to rub the pain away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who?” Naturally, you ask. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Marco,” he repeats and you feel him sitting by your side, causing you to instantly shift uncomfortably in your place. He can’t help but notice your actions and so he moves to the side to give you more space.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do I know you?” You throw another question at him, not sure what to say or do in this situation. A stranger was watching you in your sleep? Lord knows what he was thinking of...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Marco coughs a bit, “No,” he stares at your face with a concentrated frown, “why are you wearing a blindfold?” Earlier, after making sure you were alive, he sat in front of your sleeping form and mentally took a note to remind him of asking you said question. Curiosity got the best of him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You stay quiet for a few seconds, once again, uncertain of what to do in said situation. How can you possibly get him to go away without being rude and inconsiderate? “It’s to protect my eyes from the sun,” you answer briefly, not really finding it in yourself to share details of your life with someone you don’t know how they look like. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh,” Marco’s curiosity isn’t satiated but he can tell you do not wish to talk to about it so he doesn’t press on the matter. Instead, he changes the subject quickly by asking: “What about you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You follow the source of his voice and turn to face him with a raised eyebrow, he probably can’t see the confusion on your face due to the blindfold standing in the way. You unconsciously bring your knees to your chest, “What about me?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean...What’s your name?” Marco smiles widely at you in hopes it might encourage you to open up only to remember you can’t see his face. His smile falters almost immediately.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do you wish to know my name?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Marco is taken aback by your question. “Because I told you mine?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And when he thinks that’ll be enough to get you to talk, you surprise even more by adding, “I never asked you to tell me your name.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He stays quiet for a moment, absent-mindedly contemplating the view around him, feeling a little flustered that you were shutting him out, when all he wants to do is to talk to someone, anyone really. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well then Let’s introduce ourselves to one another.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So we could become friends?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Friends?” When was the last time you had a friend? You can only think of the neighbor’s daughter whom you were starting to grown really close to but it was short lived...she couldn’t possibly survive after being stabbed numerously in the abdomen, in some dark alleyway near your home...and she was only six.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Friends...as in...people who keep each other’s company and share secrets with one another?” Marco explains hesitantly upon noticing the hint of confusion in your voice.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You nod apprehensively as you hum quietly, turning your head to face forward, as if to assure the individual, presumably named Marco, that you know what the term means and he can only stare at you, waiting for you to say something but you don’t and so he finds himself obliged to break the ice once again. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So...” awkwardness fills the atmosphere all of a sudden and you can feel your cheeks heat up yet you don’t understand why. Why does it feel awkward? Why do you care if it does? You shouldn’t care...it’s how things have always been, you never cared about others but your family, it being consisted of one and only one person.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Do you trust me?” You don’t bother to face him, it’s not like you can see his face anyway. All you can see is whatever light can go past the blindfold. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This time, he’s the one to stay quiet, trying to understand why you were asking him such random questions. Were you testing him or simply joking around? He can’t really tell, not when your face lacks all kind of emotion right now.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well...I hope I can...at some point,” The freckled boy’s answer sounds so genuine and it completely takes you off guard but you don’t show it, you keep your face calm and collected.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t,” You pause for a while and repeat yourself, “I don’t trust you.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His laugh comes out breathy and it feels so nice to your ears for some reason, it feels so reassuring in a way you can’t describe, and you try to convince yourself this guy can’t possibly harm you...you find yourself reminded that people ‘up here’ are not the same as the ones ‘downstairs’.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you laughing?” You try not to smile but fail miserably at it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Marco pats the top of your head and you flinch instantly but you soon allow him to do it. Head pats remind of someone so dear to you, despite him being cruel enough to send you away. “Of course you don’t trust me, silly girl...you barely know me.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“But we can get to know each other...I promise I don’t bite,” He jokes, “Besides, it’s going to be a long three years and you look like you could totally use some company.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How did you know I’m training here?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Marco scratches the back his neck, thinking of what to say, “I don’t...I just kind of assumed it...although I don’t remember seeing you in the girls’ dormitory.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I have a room of my own.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What? How come you get a private room and we don’t?” His eyes widen in disbelief, “Are you like...someone...special?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It sounds nice when you put it that way,” you don’t get into details, despite feeling a bit more comfortable around him, but your instinct, after years of not trusting anyone, automatically pushes you to be careful regardless of the person in question, and yes, Marco’s voice is sweet and angelic. However...you still haven’t seen what he looks like. You could care less if he’s attractive or anything like that but one look at a person’s face can tell you everything you need to know about them.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before he gets to interrogate you some more, you beat him to it. “What were you doing in the girls’ dormitory anyway?” You know for a fact his cheeks must have turned into a deep shade of red by now, and true enough, the poor guy’s eyes are looking at everything but you, embarrassed to say the least. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And while he couldn’t see your judgy eyes behind the blindfold, he caught a hint of it in the tone you adressed him with, and as he struggles to open his mouth, he fumbles with his fingers shyly. “It’s,” he coughs and straightens his posture, “Its n-not like that...I promise.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">I was just passing by and-“</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure...’just passing by’...whatever helps you sleep at night,” you interrupt him, smacking your lips together as you lean against the tree.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It sounds bad when you put it that way,” he chuckles nervously, trying helplessly to hide the agitation in his wavering voice, “But hey, you never told me what’s your name...” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Back to square one, this guy doesn’t seem to know when to give up. This time, however, you feel like it’s not going to harm anyone if you share with him a small detail about yourself, so you open your mouth and let your name flow out.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Cute name...it suits you very well,” Marco compliments and blushes furiously once again, when in fact you’re supposed to feel shy specially when said compliment is directed towards you. Right now, he’s just thankful you can’t see how much of a distressed mess he is.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks...” you nod your head gently, “And don’t expect me to share any secrets. I don’t have any to begin with,” you add shortly after, and your statement can only be described as a true one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Marco takes this as an opportunity to get closer and when he notices that you’re not making any weird face or reaction like you had earlier, he takes it as a good sign and smiles triumphantly to himself, perhaps a bit too satisfied with how he has managed to change your body language around him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I find that hard to believe,” he leans against the same tree, his head mere centimeters away from yours. He stares straight ahead of him, at the field where most of your new comrades were hanging out, getting to know each other, completely oblivious to the fact that these could be their last free days before they get themselves into intense hardcore training.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Trust me...I’ll bore you out of your mind.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hmm...then you won’t have much problem sharing why you have to protect your eyes from the sun...if you find it in yourself to do so...that is,” He carefully demands, politeness coating each and every word, glancing at you to make sure you don’t feel offended or anything of such sort. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You’ve been dodging this one particular subject but you tell yourself, for what seems to be the second time that no harm could be done if you share your story with this seemingly sweet boy who wants to be friends with you...really bad. “I suppose,” you stop and tilt your head to the side, “I can tell you about that...keeping some details for myself of course.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And you proceed to tell him briefly of the reasons you ended up here in the first place, not really addressing the multiple short-lived breakdowns you had on the way nor the intense fights you had with your father that truly made you believe, for days, that daddy issues should be a part of your tale seeing the love hate relation you have with the old man.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You receive oohs and aahs from your recently acquired friend and he sounds to be very invested in every word that comes out of your mouth...</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...so much so it feels great to share your life, despite leaving out huge chunks out of it but then it’s probably for the best, you don’t want to get him all depressed and pitiful towards you.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He interacts with everything you say, sometimes even going far to interrupt you and ask a few questions or connecting the dots.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Explains why you look like you’re on the verge of death...you skin is so dull</em>, he had exclaimed earlier only to place a hand on his mouth when realizing what that could do for the self esteem of a fourteen years old. He had immediately apologized, muttering something him being a <em>inconsiderate asshole</em>, and then he apologized again...for using the term asshole. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You could only smile at how innocent he is and then proceeded to explain to him that you’re not really offended by his words. For one, being told you have a dull skin is the least harmful insult you had heard in all the years you’ve lived on this earth and as for bad words, you heard much worse; your ears have been raped by the grotesque train of curses you hear in every corner of the underground city. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Where do you live, Marco?” You decide it’s about time to ask him about himself, for you’ve perhaps shared too much already.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Marco points at a random direction behind him, “Just outside of Trost Disctrict...there is a little village there...I don’t think you know much of the geography here, do you?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You shake your head no, proving him right, “Well, it’s fine,” he smiles softly at you, and somehow you know he’s smiling at you, his voice is truly endearing and gentle , “I’ll teach you all that you need to know once we start the training.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You thank him silently and it goes quiet. However this time, it’s not uncomfortable, it’s just a mutual agreement that you both need that moment of pure calm, appreciating each other’s presence in complete silence. A part of you seems to be liking Marco as the minutes go by, another part is still unsure, eating at you and causing you to think of the worst case scenarios, or how this new friendship can end at any moment given, for some stupid banalistic reason.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How will I ever be able to recognize you? If we meet again?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You find yourself wondering out loud and Marco is quite shocked by you taking the initiative this time. Thankful nonetheless. He places a hand on yours and you jump from your place, “It’s okay...I’m just going to do this,” he slowly raises your hand and brings it to his face because that is absolutely not a weird thing to do.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here touch my face and try to memorize whatever you can.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You do as you’re told, allowing your hands to grab each side of his face of his face, “You’re really hot,” you state matter-of-fact.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” He gets nervous out of nowhere.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No, I mean quite literally...your cheeks are burning,” you say as you hands carefully hover over his skin. You grab his nose and try to memorize its size, “This is kind of useless,” you stifle a laugh, finding it a bit bizarre that you’re practically massaging his face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well how about,” he grabs your hands and places them back on your lap, feelings his face about to burst from how nervous he is, “you search for the most handsome boy with freckles? I think that’ll give it away...don’t you?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You raise your eyebrows at him, “You give yourself too much credit,” you try to hold back your laughter and while at first it works, you soon find it leaving your mouth freely and Marco can’t help but stare in awe.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There is nothing wrong with a little bit of confidence you know,” he tries to be serious but it really doesn’t suit him well. He’s definitely a good guy person, someone to make jokes all the time and not take things very seriously, and that’s something you know you need in your life, if you’re to start a new chapter. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After all, just a few years ago, you were a child and you still are, growing into an adolescent, and you can use some humor and fun after all the shit you’ve witnessed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t really disagree with that” you shake your head, “You know...you could just approach me when you see me...why are we complicating things?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">...Can’t lie, I do have a thing for being a bit over dramatic,” you finish, cringing as you recall a few situations where you have proven to be so. Coincidentally, in most, if not, all said situations, you were on the brink of death, practically shaking hands with the grim reaper so you can’t really blame yourself for desiring to live.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And as noon nears by and the sun gets unbelievably hot, Marco bids you farewell with a lot of difficulty, he wishes he can spend more time with you but he’s to fulfill the cleaning duties he was assigned, and he knows best not to be late and possibly leave a bad first impression.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">You decide to go for another nap, knowing damn well your break is soon coming to an end and that you’d probably never get the luxury to enjoy a quiet day like this one...<em>ever again</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feedback will be very much appreciated! Also I’m totally not planning on writing another Eren Fanfic, totally *nervous laugh*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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